Soul Amnesia

My parched soul is overwhelmed today. I've been reading the Word, and a book. The book I talked about before. The one on Eucharisteo. Amazing how God can rip up your soul while filling it so deeply. Reminding me of the point. Awakening the desire.

A lot of this post is going to be excerpts. I want you to read her words. To soak in them. Because they have been life to my soul. I've written before of my views about beauty. And somewhere along the way, I forgot. This woman, the one who lives on a farm states away, has reminded me of the soul-stirring, love-evoking, search for beautiful things that really leads me to seeing God clearer. More wholly. She has reminded me that the easy fix doesn't exist and so we have to ask the question of how to see grace clearly, accurately, as more than ease or not experiencing the worst of the worst.

And I look down at his ugly-beautiful [referring to her sons maimed hand]. And I see what I am. I'm amputated. I have hacked my life up into grace moments and curse moments. The chopping that has cut myself off from the embracing love of a God who "does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow" (Lamentations 3:33), but labors to birth grief into greater grace. 

God is good and I am always loved.

Because eucharisteo is how Jesus, at the Last Supper, showed us to transfigure all things--take the pain that is given, give thanks for it, and transform it into a joy that fulfills all emptiness. The hard discipline to learn into the ugly and whisper thanks to transfigure it into beauty. The hard discipline to give thanks for all things at all times because He is all good. 

All is grace because all can transfigure. 

All is grace because all. can. transfigure. He is ALL. GOOD. 

I soak that up like a good tan in the summer. Though I'm not in a season where I am disparaging in depravity, I know those who are. I talk to my sister and hear of the hell some of her students are living in. I walk with a friend who is dealing with the pull between her old world and her new. I ache for them, and then I have to remember the grace. Not that if this got worse it wouldn't be grace, but that the ugly is grace too, because it has to be. It has to be able to be transfigured because that's what God promises. To look at the people who absolutely drive me insane and see that as their ugly-beautiful and remember that I am that too. This concept of grace puts us all on the same level, none better, none worse. And it leads us to a place of being compelled to act for others in love. To love justice and mercy and walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). To be a place of rest for hurting people because we understand the need and that grace doesn't leave us in a self-protecting place. 

I am beset by chronic soul amnesia. I empty of truth and need the refilling. I need to come again every day--bend, clutch, and remember--for who can gather the manna but once, hoarding, and store away sustenance in the mind for all of the living?

And is that not me? I am the one hoarding. Soaking in Truth a few times a week and calling that full. I forget my need, lose sight of my starvation, and allow life to be swallowed up by mortality (2 Corinthians 5:4). She refers in her book constantly to Manna. The food only available each day. She reminds me that the sweet bread is only available daily. Enough for a time. And my soul forgets. It forgets its hunger for life. I miss sight of fullness, forsaking it for cheap substitutes. 

Isn't beauty what we yearn to burn with before we die? What else so ignites, hot flame? Beauty is all that is glory and God is Beauty embodied, glory manifested. This what I crave: I hunger for Beauty. Is that why I must keep up the hunt? When I cease the beauty hunt, is that why I begin to starve, waste away?

I had told it once to a questioning son that theology is but that born of theos and logy--God and study-- and theology is to study God. I had always thought of the hefty concordances on the high shelf in the study, but isn't this, too, the deep study of the Spirit God? The revelation of God over the farm? [referring to the search for beauty]

I pay tribute to God by paying attention. Beauty requires no justification, no explanation; it simply is and transcends. 

And her words resonate with my soul. Bring tears to my eyes, and the question of how to refute soul amnesia. She's right. She calls me out. How do I constantly miss the beauty in things--the God in things. It's because my eyes aren't looking. They are darting to and fro for cheap entertainment. For ease. How much harder it is to live a life where I am constantly looking for God. It involves mindfulness that I don't possess, thus it involves constant looking up to Him for the mindfulness. I have held onto the thought that studying God in beauty is just as much the pursuit of theology as it is in books for a year now. My heart jumps to see someone speaking of her own journey to that truth. The truth that the fields I mindlessly drive by, the endless blue above me as I look down, the sunrise I daily ignore on my way to class, the cup of coffee I drink, the vastness of the world around me, it all contains some semblance of beauty. I shallowly live amidst it without ever really looking. 

I feel overwhelmed with that reminder today. With the reminder that as I look for God in beauty, as I look for God in the ugly, as I look for God in my starvation, fullness, desire, apathy, and love, I am pursuing life rather than mortality. I am living the full life. I am creating a life that allows Him to work and I am fostering space for bigger things than me. 

Part of my soul amnesia diagnosis is remembering that God is in everything. That pursuing God doesn't  just look like what I learned it should in that warehouse room in Sunday School. It encompasses reality. All reality. And it leads me to a place where I don't shy away from "types" of people. In fact, it erases that word from my vocabulary. It allows me to see us all as ugly-beautiful. It teaches me to care deeply and love fervently. It teaches to me to live a life of rest and allow God to lead me where I'm supposed to be. It reminds me that I don't have to try. 

And how my soul has needed to know that. How it always needs to know that. This is grace because it can transfigure. It can go from being ugly to being beautiful. God treats my soul amnesia with a restful time in a coffee shop with thirst quenching reminders from a mother of six living on a farm. 

Posture

Merry Christmas to one and all.

And although this is the day we have deemed to, in the words of Relient K, "celebrate the day that [Jesus] was born to die, so I could one day pray for Him to save my life," it isn't what is on my mind so early-late this morning-night.

As I'm lying here in my childhood bedroom attempting to sleep I was thinking about humility. I have a myriad of quotes in post-it note form on my computer screen. Many of which are C.S. Lewis. I'm telling you the man was brilliant. One of them reads, "Humility isn't thinking any less of ourselves, but thinking of ourselves less."

Spurred on by a conversation with a friend, I was lying here, trying to imagine what that looked like. A mental image popped into my over-active imagination of an eager face looking at other people with feigned interest. It seemed forced and shallow. And you know why I think that is? Because my nature when I first begin to ask a question about the look of an action is to imagine the look of the action. I know that seems overly-obvious and stupid, but hear me out.

Maybe what I do so often isn't ask the question of, "how does this play out in my heart?" but rather, "what should this thought play out to in my life?" or rather, "what will people think of me when they see me acting this out?" And as sickening as that looks as I write it out, that is almost automatically where my mind goes all the time. It's about the posture I take.

The other day my sister-in-law and I were talking about how much we compare ourselves to other girls. What resulted from this conversation was the reminder that to be healthy isn't to necessarily feel like we are the creme de la creme, but to consider ourselves of equal value as the rest. I think the concept is the same for our faith. Maybe humility isn't raising or lowering ourselves on the "Christian totem pole" but maybe it's not needing to focus on ourselves and being able to take in the steady rhythm of life while walking with God as best as we know how.

Every one of you reading this probably is like, "well duh Emilie." But it's kind of a fabulous thought to me. I've thunk it before. But the word "posture" came to mind tonight and stuck. When I imagine posture I imagine the Princess Diaries when her grandmother ties her to a chair with handkerchiefs. It was about her appearance, and in that scene, and basically throughout the entire movie, she is not a graceful woman. When we try to posture ourselves, or place ourselves in a specific light, we tend to focus on the actions. It becomes about who we talk to, what we read, where we go to church, what information we know about whom; all these little factors with which we use to define ourselves and use to either tear ourselves down or build ourselves up.

The other side of the coin is looking beyond our posture. Asking for healing so we can root out our incessant needs to rate other people and ourselves and base treatment upon that.

Sara Groves sings this Christmas song "To Be With You" and it's one of my favorites. In the song, she says, "we gather round the table, we close our eyes and sing 'Praise God from whom all blessings flow.'" And it sticks with me for no other reason than the subtle reposturing in my mind that happens when I look at the celebrations that are occuring yesterday and today and choose to say, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." It grounds me. This year I don't need a big theological anthology to make me enjoy the season. I just needed to be reminded of God by a 300 year old liturgy.

I think maybe that's a big chunk of the walk that I miss so often. I think it's part of the reason I blog. I am a fickle person and I constantly need reposturing to look at things clearly. Writing is like a magnifying glass for me. It causes me to collect my thoughts in a pile, examine them, and sort them into their reserved places. Some of them are unripe and go back through the grinder, some need the finality of "publication" to settle deeply within me, and some, well, some are fresh and new and just need to be tossed out to see what's next for them.

So with a critical eye, I deem this thought one to be churned for awhile. Gnawed on. And for that, Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Eucharisteo

I spend much of my time comparing. Comparing my life, faith, body type, hair, clothes, friends, etc. My mind whirs constantly with similitudes and variances to the point where I always find inadequacies. Either within me or others. This reality of myself produces a lot of ingratitude. It causes me to live a life where every good thing comes with a "but". The absence of joy and contentedness is quite evident to me, if not to others looking in.

I also have recently pinpointed in myself a major lack of motivation. I want to do, to craft, read, and think, to enjoy life in the ways that I know to be life-giving. But I often choose to sit and watch Hulu or waste my time on Solitaire, they are cop outs. So this break I am trying immensely to fill my time with actual life-giving activities, not cheap time-wasting fillers.

One thing I'm trying to be better about is reading. I love to read, I always have. I think there is something enchanting about being invited into someone else's story, whether it be fictional or reality. It allows one the ability to escape their own reality for awhile and step into another perspective. I learn a lot through reading, not only through the information it provides but the magnitude of watching information impact other people's lives. It inspires me and causes me to ask good questions of my own life.

My sister suggested One Thousand Gifts to me recently. I always take recommendations from my sister seriously because she has a beautifully honest heart that begs for true answers. She is someone who has seen hard things and chooses to face their realities and ask God for the hard answer, the true answer. She inspires me. So when this book was mentioned, I immediately wanted to pick it up, and I'm so glad that I did.

Ann Voskamp writes of Eucharisteo in her book, the greek word for Thanksgiving. For me, this has always been another cheap Christian platitude. And starting the book I was skeptical. What does she have to say about being thankful that I don't already understand or haven't found to be completely cheesy? Three chapters in and my skepticism is now a red shade of embarrassment on my face. She's got me gnawing. Chewing the cud. This woman begins a list of one thousand things to be thankful for. Again, something in my mind I would have processed as cheesy. Cue the deepening shade of red.

The longer her list becomes, the more she experiences joy. The contentedness of a moment of beauty through suds and cheese. And it's not the event or scene that leads her to this joy, it's God being the source of it. Finding that time was meant to be embraced, not hurried. When we rush and speed we are choosing to overlook the God in the moment. We aren't seeing things clearly. Living the slow life is an idea that my mind has gone to a lot, but it stops after the concept. I struggle to find what that really means. I think to live without anticipation is to trust. Maybe when we slow down and choose to find merit in the moments we have we are choosing to see God better. Making a cognitive decision to look to Him and find satisfaction regardless of the circumstance.

For years now I have not been able to connect two thoughts. The first being that God is God, that He is big and has created existence, that what I do isn't inconsequential. Two, I live a life here on earth, surrounded by people who experience hurt, anger, sarcasm, laughter, and joy. Not a lot of times have I felt as if each of my experiences here connected to the bigger picture. And when Ann talked about her list, God started connecting some missing links. Her growing list caused her to slow down and see God in things, and so began connections of the here to the eternal. The seemingly insignificant here began to point to the ultimately magnificent there.

And that's where that leaves me right now. I want to start looking at the minute and begin to be led to the crucial. I want to stop using cheap fillers and do life-giving things with my time. Isn't that the point? To live the God-life by finding things that point us to Him?  For me it manifests itself in creating, writing, reading, playing piano, etcetera. I tell my small group girls all the time that they need to find the things to them that are life-giving, that point them to God, and then to do them. Ironically it is difficult to do, because laziness is easy. But I'm discontent right now, laziness hasn't led to life.....go figure. Romans 12 speaks so much about a full life of caring, loving, of not comparing and belittling others. I don't do those things naturally, especially when I am more concerned with living an easy life rather than a significant life. I want to see God in the minute though, to slow down my living and expectations. So I'm trying to choose it, asking God for the want to choose it, and making myself try a little harder. These thoughts are still shallow in my mind, but I wanted to throw them out there. The regurgitation to you helps make it a little more concrete to me.

I find I don't quite have to words to end this post. My mind is a jumbled mess of thoughts about the subject and I can't close it down. So here is the good-bye for now. Short and abrupt.

Threats

I've been thinking the past few days about the life I really want. Finally on my drive back to school on Sunday one word popped in my head. Rich. I want a rich life. Not in a cha-ching cha-ching kinda way, but full, meaningful, weighed heavily with value. And then the natural proceeding of questions settled in my brain--how does one define richness? How do we pursue a rich life? What is the rich life?

Two Sundays ago, sitting in the hard wooden pew of my church, Kevin Cawley planted a thought in me that I've been gnawing on like a bone since then. Where does anger/anxiety come from? He said they are rooted in the fear of losing something that we value. It comes from feeling threatened. And how often does what I do and how I act completely allude to that? Let me answer you, all the freaking time.

I believe in knowing why we do what we do. Motive is everything. And when I start to think about when I feel anger towards people or situations, I can feel the weight of fear coming with it most of the time. And even more so I see that for me, most of the times I feel threatened are when my security is threatened. I get protective and needy when I don't feel important or valued, I get snippy when my time is not spent how I choose, I get sassy when people make fun of the way I act, dress, or things I do, along with the tons of other idiosyncrasies I have developed from my fear of losing the things I cushion myself with.

The fact of it is, that anger and fear only comes when the things being threatened are gods to me. When the importance of my security, comfort, pride, etc. has exceedingly more value and promise to me than God Himself. Sick right? But so so true.

Twinsies have come into my life this semester. They are two of my favorite people I have ever met to date. And part of the reason is that I feel no threat from them. They are kind, funny people who love well and often. And it's completely natural. It's humbling to be around them and feel the freedom to be and enjoy things fully without the competitive monkey of comparison on my back. They are a gift.

And as I think about those friendships, I catch a glimpse of how a non-threatened life could be. A life where there isn't a need to be the best, feel the most important, have "the look," say the right thing, find the right person, or portray the right image. A life spent in complete rest, security, and thus, enjoyment. That's a God-centered life. Those things go so much deeper than situational emotions, they're a deep-seeded spirit within a person. The Twinsies seem to have some sort of Otherness about them. I want it.

Just because this pride and paganism manifests itself in security issues in me doesn't mean it isn't out there in a million other ways either. Most anger and I would dare to say all anxiety is completely rooted in the fear of things we value being threatened. When we value things so much more than the giver of them. Those moments just scream that we don't believe God is big enough. The holding onto other people, things, ideas, as being our hope does something to us. It creates monsters of self-sufficiency who would dare to do almost anything to stay well padded from actually needing God.

I finished the Narnia series this break, and in the last chapter of the last book the line, "further up and further in" is used a lot. In the book it's referring to the New Narnia, the allegorical portrayal of heaven, and as they keep running through it everything keeps getting bigger and more vast and all the more exciting rather than smaller and more finite. Sometimes I think that as I keep walking forward, life should become simpler and more concrete, but the further up and further in I go it just keeps getting more expansive. I'm afraid of it sometimes, I'm fearful that all the expanse is just too big and I'm never going to find anything rightly. But really, I think the opposite side of the coin is that if it kept getting smaller and narrower I would feel confined to the ideology and one-wayism I have desperately been trying to get away from.

I need God to continue showing me the expansiveness of going further up and in, while likewise knowing that He is standing right next to me being my hope that this isn't too much. Maybe that is part of the rich life. In my mind, I perceive richness as peace. The older I get the more I'm finding that the things we do are usually about the pursuit of contentedness, and rarely do they achieve that purpose. Peace comes from the Peacemaker I guess, who understand the bloodiness that needs to take place to actually have it. He understands that peace is hard, but ultimately it's worth whatever the loss or ripping out of. Peace is mentioned so much in the bible and I've never really looked at it as being something I deeply long for, but that's really it. It encompasses so much, rest, contentment, hope, joy, and more. It's a catchall word. So maybe the rich life is really a life of peace. Something to think about.....

Ten

What is it about drizzling rain and 43 degree weather that begs for a mid-day Starbucks run? Whatever it is, I answered the call. I'm not an extremely impulsive person, but as of late I have become much more so when it comes to getting out of Bolivar. No particular reason why, I just really like coffee. And cities. And smog. Well, not really smog, but I like going places and not knowing people and being able to shrink into the background.

For some reason, this time of year brings out the nostalgic side of me. In the generic sort of ways as far as holidays some, but mainly for stages of life. Like the days when my best friend and I would just go sit in coffee shops for hours, eat Chick-Fil-A and sit in Barnes and Nobles for hours comparing books and authors. Those are some of my fondest memories. They were days of rest, thoughts, fun, and enjoyment. Sometimes I try to recreate the sensations of those days, but to no avail.

My mom has this 10-10-10 concept that I've heard for years when anxiety started creeping up on me. In ten days, this will probably be over, in ten weeks, this will be a memory, and in ten months, it's going to be a non-existent blip on the radar. Basically it is just a reminder that life is going to keep moving forward, and the hard stuff is going to become a story, and the good stuff is going to a fond reminiscence. And it's true. High school definitely had it's downs. My blatant insecurity, fear of not fitting in, and immature judgment. While I know those were there, they aren't in the forefront of my mind when reminded of those times. It's the good memories. Warm summer evenings playing volleyball until the lights turned off, hours spent in the sun on the lake, driving all over Kansas City for good coffee, that's what I remember.

This subject came up with a friend the other day, which is probably why my mind has gone there today. Sometimes I think I forget that this is a just a miniscule part of the big picture. In months, today won't be a big deal. Life keeps moving on, and the bad stuff will be distant, and the good will still be good. I think that's why God tells us not to worry so much. Because in His infiniteness He sees the big picture and knows that these little things, the messy relationships, that low test grade, your embarrassing fail of epic proportions, are all going to be over soon enough, and we'll move on.

I guess that's how life is meant to be though. We're not supposed to spend our time trying to recreate the past, or to freak out over the present, or anticipate the future. We're supposed to ask God to give us enough for today, and ask to see further down the road so we don't get so caught up in the todays. All of our todays will eventually be yesterdays. Bon Iver has this song called Holocene, I'm going to leave you with a line from it I have really liked lately. It just reminds me that I'm not really that big of a deal.

and at once I knew I was not magnificent

strayed above the highway aisle

(jagged vacance, thick with ice)

I could see for miles, miles, miles

Midnight Ramblings

It's midnight and I'm sitting on the sleeper sofa in the living room of our yearly rented cabin. That's right, it's October. Also synonymous with the Jackson's Silver Dollar City trip. The sounds of screaming children, Iron-workers clinking their ore, and food frying fill the air.

Although currently the only sounds I'm hearing is the cacophony of my brother-in-law and father trying to beat one another in a snoring contest via their respective rooms and my sister attempting to drown out the nasal-fest with Gilmore Girls.

As much as I enjoy this yearly jaunt of tradition, the thought in my mind tonight is further away from that. I've seen this quote floating around Pinterest lately and it just keeps settling back into my mind.

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

Sigh. How often does that completely encompass my way of life? I miss out on a lot because I let my fear of inadequacy force me into complacency. I allow myself to feel small and belittled by things that are medial. It's okay if I don't have "that girls" legs, or am not four inches taller. It's okay if I am not as laid back, or funny, or uninhibited as someone else. Granted, that can easily become an excuse for a lack of willingness to try. But there's got to be a balance doesn't there?

I'm reading this book right now and the main character's grandmother is succumbing to. dementia. At one point her mother reminds her to treat her grandmother with dignity.

Dignity. Where is that word in our current day vernacular? It's a small, unidentifiable concept that we have completely lost the art of enacting. A couple of summers ago I lead a Beth Moore study of her book So Long Insecurity, and she referred to this topic a lot.

The gist of it is, is that I don't really know how to treat people with dignity or to give it to myself. Especially in this funny place of college where we're all beginning to make big life choices that may or may not be the same, and affect our lives very differently. Rather than remaining confident that regardless of my whereabouts now, God sees beyond the process, and will lead me to the end, I get defensive and choose to belittle other people. To lessen their value so I can cover myself with false confidence. Boo me.

In her book, Beth talks about learning to see each other within the eyes of equal value. And I guess it goes so much further than even insecurity. My sister has a new job teaching in the inner city and I love listening to her stories of her little sixth graders. She gets this beautiful position of choosing to see these children for what they are; children, not from a "bad part" of town, not "projects" and not less than her. They are babies that act a little too big for their britches sometimes, who say funny things, are smart, and love her in return. She gets to teach them that regardless of the hatefulness in the world, we can choose to do something about it. We can choose to let go of our i've-got-this-going-for-me-so-I-am-above-you mentality and choose to remember that we are all souls. That's what C.S. Lewis reminded me of when he said, "we are all souls walking around, you have never spoken to a mere mortal."

My mind gets so clouded with "he said/she said," and sarcasm and cynicism is way easier to cultivate than compassion and silence. And let me tell you, I suck at being silent when I have something bad to say....it comes outta me like lava (Bridesmaids reference). So here's the thing, I don't really know how to change.

From my last post y'all can see I'm in an interesting place, and it's hard to keep being honest, because I want to settle here. i want so badly to allow complacency to gently lull me into monotony. And in a lot of ways I still am, but this is a baby step. I want to choose to think better. I want to ask God what that means, and have a clear heart about it. I want to do it for everyone around me who I claim to love, and I want to do it because it's important to look beyond myself. There is something greater out there than serving my own purposes. So here's to shutting up and letting God teach me how to love well.

The Interworkings of an Angry Heart

I'm hesitant to post this, it's ugly and hard, but I want people to see the reality of my journey. Maybe other people don't land where I am, but regardless I have landed here, and I'm choosing to be honest about it because it's too big for me.

Here goes. Y'all I've been mad at God. I still am. I feel like I've been waiting and waiting for Him to show up and give me some sort of clue that I'm doing things right, and I got tired of looking and waiting. It's a disappointing, sad, crappy feeling that caused me to give up these past few weeks. I haven't tried, and I haven't wanted to care. The absolutely frustrating thing is, I still do care. I'm sad. I'm sad that I haven't wanted God, I'm sad that I stopped trying, I'm sad that this feels hopeless....nonetheless those are all true statements.

And as easy as it's been to justify it, I had to come clean, it's been eating away at my soul. Slowly and surely, like one of those bugs that injects poison into its prey, but doesn't quite kill it, so the thing being consumed gets to watch the gruesome process of consumption by the enemy. I've been watching this hopelessness come over me as if I were inoculated. Even worse, I had complete ability to choose to look up, but my pride and anger didn't let me. So i've been stewing.

I haven't been in any positions to hear from God in the past month, I haven't asked, or waited, I just ignored, allowed other things to come in and widen the gap, and it's been fun in some ways. It's fun to ignore responsibility and live on impulse. It's fun to live an indulgently free life, until the reality sets in that that isn't a reality. For a long time now I've been asking what it is to live a slow life. One where I'm steadily pacing with God and not letting the day-to-day overwhelm me. But somewhere in all of this, I have substituted a slow life for a shallow life. Not in the things that I'm doing per-say but by the things I'm sacrificing for the things I'm doing.

I've let fear creep in and warrant impatience, hatred of judgment slip to judgment from myself, desires for peace be overtaken by the insistence of ease, and understanding be masked by self-righteous anger. The worst part is, I thought I was better than all of that....which is probably where this all came from. Life became about me and getting my way, it became about the pursuit of happiness rather than the pursuit of God.

I'm hesitant to need God right now, my view of Him has become rather jaded. My mom yesterday said, "I've done mad at God two ways, the first, to ignore Him and do it my way, the second to keep my eyes up, and let me tell you, the first way never gets you anywhere." She's right. I've been doing mad at God by looking at me and choosing my way. And man, if this post doesn't show you how ugly it's made me, then maybe a cynical conversation will. Because right now, there is not a lot of light in me.

I say it a lot, but it's because I keep coming back to the same conclusions, this time even deeper than previously. I need God, not the God I've had portrayed in my mind lately, and not some God that let's me do whatever I want, the Right God. I just need the God that let's me hope in His mercy right now. Where that is a reality and I can sink into a cloud of grace. Not knowing how to change, but knowing that He is still there. And that regardless of my selfish, egotistic, hateful actions lately, He is big enough to overcome it all, and chooses to willingly, because He's not like me. He's gotta change my mind right now, because I'm pretty bogged down by some falsities.

I told ya it was gonna get heavy. I hope more than anything that this doesn't stir fear or pity in you, but rather evokes grace and understanding. I don't need direction or answers, but love and patience. God will do a good work in me. I don't know how or when, but I'm tired of looking in. It empties me. Pray for me, pray for Him to move my mind elsewhere from myself, and to create in me a new heart.